As The Years Go On, I'm Learning To Accept My Nature. I Stopped Pretending I Like The Sun, I Stopped

one of my favorite things about human physiology is the way our eyes change when we look at someone we love. our pupils dilate automatically like they do when it’s dark outside and they’re trying to let more light in. except now it’s the light of your favorite person. the edges of our eyes soften a little and they sometimes even get watery which we also can’t control. tears of joy. we tend to raise our eyebrows as if we’re trying to make our eyes bigger. trying to get a better vision and seeing all the details. we tend to blink less than usual just to make the moment last a bit longer. even if it’s just a second. or when you smile at someone with your entire face involved and your eyes just crinkle and create a sparkle in them. and it all happens so effortlessly and universally.

my problem is that i cannot stop reading a book i don’t like without feeling guilty about it.

either i’m not interested in the story or the writing is bad, i cannot put the book down because then i’m a failure who doesn’t actually like to read, just pretends she does.

this is exactly why i stopped reading at all for years and i don’t want that to happen again but i cannot put this book down because i need to finish it, it was expensive and i’m just wasting money if i don’t finish it.

I want to be human

I want to be unashamedly myself. I want to be messy. With large sweaters and a mug of tea. Headphones playing a true crime podcast. Pen ink staining my finger tips and journal in hand. Moth-man stickers on my water bottle. With grass stains on my pants and flowers in my hair.

The reason I like staying up so late is because between the hours of 12am - 4am, the world is quiet and no one expects anything from me. I can read or write for hours, draw crazy things, write poetry on my wrist. And there are no consequences. I can look at stars and moon for a long time, it’s so calm and relaxing.

Carlisle cullen and aro volturi appreciation post

The worst about it is that I’m proud

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Salvou? Curte e compartilhe

Credits twitter: @ellasxl

i keep thinking about digital ghosts. or maybe digital hauntings would be a better term. the final messages shared between you and someone you no longer speak to, for whatever reason. a webpage, or blog post, or inactive profile on a social media forum that you still return to sometimes, no longer even hoping for something to have changed, just to remember, like returning to a grave year after year. video and audio recordings of people who've left your life that you play back over and over until the tape wears out. in the realm of the more fantastical, maybe a hologram that bears their likeness but only a pale, shallow imitation of their complexity, their personality, or an AI or other imperfect replica built on a lifetime of data collected from them that only reinforces their absence but is all you have left to remember (or replace until you forget the difference) them by. all these records that they existed that will inevitably only last as long as the technology that supports them takes to become obsolete, or the data corrupts and begins to break down, or the archives storing it are no longer hosted anywhere. you haven't cheated death, or the grief that comes with losing someone. you've just prolonged it.

currently in my reputation era— learning to come to terms with who i am as a person and what i want to do and be. surrounding myself with those who give me positive energy and accept the energy i give them in return. although i may not be finding love in someone else during my darkest moments, i’m finding love within myself 🫶

the thing is, i knew i was going to lose you and i knew it was going to hurt. however, i often find myself up at night, thinking about what could have been.